


Once The Swan Has Sung

by icouldnotsee (herprettysleeper)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, But very slight - Freeform, F/M, I APOLOGIZE, I'm Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Possession, The Author Regrets Everything, this is really messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herprettysleeper/pseuds/icouldnotsee
Summary: In which it’s after the end, and you and Dean accidentally convince each other there’s still hope.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I rewatched Swan Song (like that was a good idea) and then I kept thinking about an endverse idea I had, then modified it. I apologize profusely in advance.

“ _Yes!_ ” Dean screams into the air. “Yes.  _Please!_ ”

You watch from outside the cabin you share with him and the former angel as Dean cries out for Michael to take him. The porch is cold against your feet, and the scratchy blanket doesn’t do much to keep in the heat. Dean needs to come inside before he catches hypothermia, but you don’t have the heart to call him back in.

He sinks to his knees, and when his voice calls out to the sky next, it cracks. “ _Please._ Please take me.”

He breaks down into tears, and all you can do is watch as the man you love cries for the life he will never have.

~*~

The day is grayer than the day Dean lost his brother and you lost your best friend.

If Sam was here, he’d brighten up everyone’s day. Dean doesn’t do alone well—he never has. Neither have you. And you are not enough for him, and he is not enough for you.

There is a Sam-sized hole in your heart.

He’s never coming back.

~*~

Dean doesn’t sleep anymore.

He grabs enough rest to keep him functioning, fifteen minutes at a time, and sometimes you manage to force him into a few hours. He’s chronically sleep-deprived, and eventually he will collapse and sleep for days.

It’s not healthy.

“Dean, you need to get some sleep.”

He is checking his gun, disassembling and reassembling it. His hands are shaking. He needs to sleep. You repeat your statement.

“I’ll sleep when the world goes back to normal.”

“The world will never go back to normal.”

“Then I’m not sleeping.”

He doesn’t yell at you. He doesn’t smile at you. He doesn’t even frown at you. He is completely and totally blank.

He is not Dean anymore—he is a machine wearing the body of the man you used to know.

You love him anyway.

He screams for the angels to take him that night. You watch from the porch.

~*~

“You’re wobbling,” he says.

You are—your feet hurt from the near frostbite you got watching him last night. There are blisters, and they hurt.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything else the rest of the day.

~*~

_“Dude, you cannot honestly believe that licorice is better than popcorn,” Sam argues._

_Dean looks incredulous—your face cracks into a smile. You are settling in, and the boys are arguing over snack food._

_“Listen, Dean,” you butt in, “I love you, but Sammy’s right here.”_

_“It’s Sam,” Sam corrects, and Dean gives you a look of total betrayal._

_“Traitor.”_

_You get up and join him, whispering in his ear, “You know you love me.” Dean’s breathing hitches, as anticipated._

_“No PDA, please,” Sam crinkles his nose._

_When Dean is watching the movie, Sam says, careful to be quiet enough not to let Dean notice. “Thanks.”_

_You smile. “I like to think of myself as a Grade-A distraction.”_

When you wake up, you sob into your pillow.

When the screaming to the sky begins, you lay awake, and simply listen.

~*~

The dreams come back.

They return, over and over again, and they don’t stop. Trips to baseball games, singing along to classics in Baby, pranks in motel rooms, movie binges.

You are always convinced that it’s real, until you wake up.

You shake slightly in your bed, trying to keep your sobbing silent so you don’t wake Cas. Dean crashed a few days ago, and’s been getting better sleep. You don’t want to disturb it.

But when you gasp for air and continue sobbing, there’s sound. Dean shifts.

You can’t stop.

He gets out of bed, and you don’t think you’ll be able to handle it if he stands up and goes outside. You don’t think you’ll be able to listen to him, but it’s going to happen.

You quiet down; your breathing eases. Dean is still for fifteen minutes, then comes close, and says quietly, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t change position, and you don’t change the pattern of your breathing. A tear falls onto your arm.

“I’m so sorry.”

~*~

You look for some sort of change in Dean the next day; there is none.

But you slip later in the day.

“Y/N, could you stock the back houses? Cas and I are gonna take the front.”

“Yeah, sure, babe.”

You stop. Cringe.

You quickly make your way out, but Dean stops you. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

His voice softens. “Be careful, okay?”

You nod, though the corner of your lip twitches up, and you’re grateful he can’t see you. “I will be.”

~*~

When the screams end and the silent sobbing begins, you step off the porch and kneel by him. You cover the both of you with the blanket.

And you both mourn together.

~*~

The first time you fuck since the cemetery, it’s because it’s been too long, and you both missed the motion.

The first time you make love, you didn’t mean to.

~*~

You’re on a hunt, exterminating a nearby nest. Dean loses his gun—you shoot the monster that almost bites him, and toss him another.

“That was the hundredth time I’ve saved your ass in our lives,” you say.

He grins.

You’re blinded.

~*~

“Are you in?”

Dean has told you his plan. It is a death sentence, and he knows it too. It will do nothing, and Sam will be with Lucifer forever, until the end of time.

You’re sorry.

“I’m in.”

~*~

It goes exactly as planned, except you both go in alone, and Lucifer decides he would rather beat you to death.

It reminds you far too much of the cemetery.

“Sammy,” Dean says, lying in the dirt, bleeding and bruised, and Lucifer approaches, wearing your best friend like a trendy outfit. He’s so at home in the body, coming closer.

“Sammy can’t help you,” Lucifer says with Sam’s voice, but it’s not him. Your Sam is warm and kind, with a quiet intelligence that you could never duplicate.

Lucifer beats Dean into the ground, and you crawl, your body hurting and broken, and you throw yourself over him.

“It’s okay Sam,” you say. “I forgive you, alright?”

Lucifer smirks.

“We’re not gonna leave you,” Dean says. There are tears in his throat. “I’m not gonna leave you Sammy, okay? I promise, I’m not gonna leave you.”

“You never learn, do you?” Lucifer says. “Y/N. It’s been a while. Thought you were the smart one. Must’ve been wrong.”

You close your eyes, your tears falling onto Dean’s neck, anticipating the blow, but instead nothing comes.

You open one eye, and Lucifer is trying to get his arm under control, as if it’s moving independently of him.

“Sammy?” Dean says.

“Dean.” He gasps as he says his brother’s name, as if he’s fighting intense pain, and you know he is. He must be. “Y/N?”

“Do you,” Sam falls to his knees, and Dean scrambles to hold him up, “Remember when Alastair almost banished Cas out of his vessel? I—” he groans in pain. “Do you remember what he said?”

_“Well, almost. Looks like God is on my side today,” Alastair says in his sing-song voice, and Castiel moves his hand, the knife twisting itself in Alastair’s gut. Alastair yanks out the knife, and he’s to Cas too quickly, pinning him against the wall._

_“Well, like roaches, you celestials.” The demon smiles. “Now, I really wish I knew how to kill you. But all I can do is send you back to heaven.”_

_He chants in Latin, and blue-white light emerges from Castiel’s eyes and mouth, until suddenly Alastair stops, choking and slamming himself into the wall. You see Sam across the room, holding out a hand._

_“Stupid pet tricks,” Alastair spits._

You’re jerked back to the present by the sound of Sam’s voice. “ _Y/N!_ Do you remember?” He groans—Dean holds his brother closer to him.

“Yes.” You begin, saying words that are bigger than yourself, and Sam is struggling, when suddenly his spine straightens and Dean flies backwards, and Sam stands.

Not Sam.

You keep chanting.

“Do you really think that’ll work?” Lucifer growls, but he hasn’t killed you yet, so there has to be some effect. The words are gritty, and it hurts to force them out, but you go on and on and you push, your throat aching.

After the first two times, Dean joins you, and Lucifer gives the look he must’ve seconds before he fell from Heaven.

Blue-white light—a shower of it.

You close your eyes, but the world becomes such a bright red, that you have to turn, crawl away from the light, and it’s so unbearable, so bright, and you hear a little voice say,  _I can make it stop,_ and you chant yes a million times over in your head.

Sam’s body drops.

You go back to him and Dean shakes his brother. “Hey,” he says. “It’s gonna be okay, alright? It’s gonna be okay.”

Sam isn’t moving and Dean cries, but you place two fingers to the pulse point at Sam’s neck. You feel nothing, and then a tiny, almost insignificant movement against your fingertips.

“He’s alive,” you breathe, and Dean pulls his brother to him and keeps crying, but now, of joy.

You stare at them. Look down at your hands. Feel some sort of feeling you can’t describe.

The world goes black.

~*~

You wake up with something bright inside of you. You can’t describe the feeling, you just know that something is sharing the space with you—not sharing, but trapping you into a tiny corner of your own body.

You try to move, but you can’t.

_Calm down, Y/N. It’ll be fine. Nice try, though. I thought your Momma told you you couldn’t save everyone._

No. No, no, no.

_Yes._

Lucifer sits up, and Dean rushes into the room, concern in his face. Lucifer smiles with your mouth, reading your thoughts, judging how you would react.

If you were Dean, you wouldn’t have a doubt in your mind that you are you.

Sam follows. You reach out for him—you just got him back. You just got him back, and you’ve already lost your best friend again. You’ve lost the man you’re in love with. You have lost everything.

Lucifer doesn’t let you scream, so you curl up inside the corner of your body and sob.

~*~

The night Lucifer reveals himself, Dean is grabbing toilet paper from the stocks when Lucifer grabs him and laughs with your voice.

“You thought you could expel me?  _Excorcise me?_ I am not a  _demon,_ ” Lucifer growls with your voice, and for the first time since the world ended, you see fear in Dean’s eyes. “I am the bringer of light.”

Your hands throw him to the ground, break every bone he has, and your mouth grins.

“Y/N, please.” His voice is helpless. Lucifer smiles, says:

“She wishes she could help you.”

You feel the snap of Dean’s neck. His eyes dull.

_No._

“Get up, you idiot. You’re not dying. You survived hell—you’re not dying. Please,  _come back to me._ ”

No sound leaves you, and you can feel Lucifer crinkle your nose in disgust.  _Get over yourself._

You scratch and scratch at him. Nothing happens.

Sam comes out to figure out why you’re taking so long, and all you see is horror when he realizes.

He doesn’t make it two steps.

~*~

You’re floating.

 _This is the life,_ Lucifer says.  _Don’t you agree, Y/N?_

He’s relaxing on his new Earth, void of. He forced the angels to fall, and they bow to him—they have no choice. You don’t know what he’s done to each human soul. If they even exist anymore.

For the first century he has your body repaired as it breaks down, but it doesn’t take long before he manages to make your vessel permanent, makes modifications as he likes. Every second hurts—you take up less and less space inside your own body, you wither and fray. In time, you forget your own name. But you never die.

You never will.


End file.
